


I Love To Hate You

by VampireHydeFTW



Category: Miyavi (Musician), the GazettE
Genre: BDSM, Blood Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 06:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13452624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireHydeFTW/pseuds/VampireHydeFTW
Summary: Uruha and Miyavi loved to fight each other, their words often unkind and spiteful, but that was just around their friends. Alone together, they were worse.





	I Love To Hate You

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: S&M (including some blood/knife play)

            Uruha sat in the corner of the room quietly, as his band mates fawned over Miyavi. The solo artist had just got back from a tour and had come to the recording studio to greet his old friends.

            Ruki had been first to spot him, wrapping him in a hug while Reita got up and gave him a few gentle hits on the back. A macho greeting, that Miyavi didn’t seem to mind. Next had come Aoi, who had given him a quick hug and a quiet greeting.

            He and Kai had hung back while Miyavi greeted the more demanding band mates. Miyavi’s eyes had fallen on the drummer and had pretty much dived onto Kai, which would have resembled a rape scene had they not both been clothed. He always dived on Kai, it was a game they played.

            Finally, Miyavi’s eyes fell on the silent guitarist and looked puzzled by the lack of greeting.

            “Hi.” Uruha said, with a small smile.

            “Hi.” Miyavi repeated and turned back to the rest of the band, half of which were demanding to know if they had presents.

            “Of course I have presents!” Miyavi cried, as Ruki started to accuse him of being cheap. Well, it was kind of Miyavi’s fault for pretending he hadn’t brought anything.

            Miyavi had bought everyone various sweets and trinkets, as well as one piece of jewellery each. As everyone thanked him delighted by the gifts Uruha, who had been last to be give his, opened the box and looked inside. It was a gold necklace with a dragon pendant. The dragon had amethyst eyes that seemed to stare at him. Uruha admired it for a moment before carefully slipping the gift into his bag.

            “Thanks.” He muttered, unenthusiastically.

            “You could sound grateful.” Reita accused him but Uruha only looked bored. Seeing as Miyavi didn’t seem particularly bothered, nobody said anymore and returned their attention back to asking Miyavi questions about the tour. Soon growing bored, Uruha picked up his mobile and began to read the messages.

 

            Miyavi felt his phone vibrate in his pocket but ignored it. His eyes caught Uruha’s across the room and he knew instantly who the message was from. The evidence was in Uruha’s hands, as he was still messing about with his phone. The wink confirmed it. He had a good idea what the message was about as well. It wasn’t until later, as he left the building he looked.

            [If you want a real thank you, come around to my house sometime after eight.] read the message, from a number not stored in his phone; Miyavi knew the numbers of by heart. It was Uruha.      Once, the two of them had fought about everything, neither had known why. However one day the fighting turned into something else. Miyavi remembered clearly waking up sore all over in Uruha’s arms.  They hadn’t been drunk. They had known what they were doing.

            After that, it had happened on a regular basis. They would fight and then have sex until they both collapsed. It had become something resembling a relationship and there was love too. Hidden love, that only revealed itself after they had slept together, or when it occasionally slipped out. If they couldn’t admit to each other that they even liked each other, what hope would there be in telling his friends? The relationship was secret and in the end, that just added to the excitement. And so Uruha continued to act like Miyavi was just an annoyance and Miyavi pretended he didn’t even know that Uruha was there. However, their band mates weren’t blind. It was obvious there was something going on between them. A funny kind of friendship, or so they assumed.

 

            Miyavi arrived at Uruha’s house at nine on purpose and rang the bell. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, knowing that turning up at Uruha’s house in black leather trousers and a leather trench coach would only prove suspicious.

            “You’re late,” Uruha glared. “What did you do? Join the Yakuza on your way here?”

            “I wish. They’d treat me nicer than you.” Miyavi snapped, before finding himself thrown against a wall and kissed harshly, almost desperately. So, Uruha had missed him. They normally fought longer than this.

As a furious Uruha pulled away, he took delight in seeing the necklace he had bought around Uruha’s neck. He had liked it! Miyavi had always suspected as much but now he had proof.

“What was that with Kai?” Uruha demanded angrily.

“What, you jealous I might go back?” Miyavi teased.

“No,” Uruha snapped. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to practically rape him every time you see him.”

“Why not? He’s my friend. He likes it.” Miyavi announced rebelliously.

“Because he’s your ex. He might think you’re still into him.” Uruha explained, in an angry tone.

“So, what if he does? I wouldn’t mind fucking him again,” Miyavi announced, followed by the key words. “It’s not like you own me.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Uruha demanded, pinning Miyavi to the wall one more time. “Do I have to prove I do, yet again? Are you too stupid to remember the last lesson I gave you?”

“Maybe I wasn’t listening. You’re a boring teacher.” Miyavi snapped.

“Well this time my lesson is going to be a little more interesting,” Uruha promised, giving Miyavi one more hungry kiss before leaving him panting for breath in the hall. Knowing what would come next, as it always came next, Miyavi removed his coat and let it fall to the floor. It revealed a naked, perfectly defined, tattooed chest.

Despite his desire to follow Uruha straight away, Miyavi knew it would be more for his benefit to make Uruha wait. Anything to annoy him that little bit more. Idly he studied the pictures in Uruha’s hall. Pictures he’d seen before, but he looked at them as if it was his first time. He fiddled with Uruha’s keys and smiled in delight as he saw the key ring he’d bought Uruha as a joke still attached to his keys. He hadn’t expected Uruha to even keep that.

Deciding he couldn’t pretend to be unbothered any longer, Miyavi headed up Uruha’s stairs. Ignoring the bedrooms, he headed for the door that led to the attic. Uruha normally kept this door locked, for good reason. This was the room where the true Uruha showed himself. Miyavi could only hope he was the only one to see him.

 

“Take your time.” Uruha snapped as Miyavi entered, his eyes taking in and appreciating Miyavi’s efforts to please him. The man really did look incredibly sexy.

“I figured you needed all the time you could, to think of new ways to punish me,” Miyavi teased. “What with your brain getting slower in your old age.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my age,” Uruha responded, unable to hide the grin. “I’m not losing my IQ yet. Your stupidity is for ever.”

“Better to be stupid, than ugly.” Miyavi snapped, bracing himself for the slap he knew would come.

“Don’t you dare insult my looks.” Uruha snapped as his hand connected with Miyavi’s cheek. He wasn’t mad, he didn’t hate Miyavi, this was just the game they always played.

“You’re getting weak.” Miyavi announced, the pain already gone. Uruha really was holding back tonight and Miyavi hated it. He wanted the pain. Uruha knew that.

“I’m just holding back so that you can last. I have a lot planned.” Uruha explained as he encouraged Miyavi to walk back a few steps, where two chains were attached to the ceiling. They’d already been especially placed for Miyavi, so when Miyavi wrists were attached to the leather cuffs his arms were lifted up at the desired height. Miyavi pulled forwards and grinned at Uruha. Now was when the real fun began.

            Uruha winked at Miyavi and walked out of the room, leaving Miyavi to wonder about what was planned for him. Something painful; it was always painful since Uruha had discovered that was what he was into.

            Uruha soon returned in a brand new outfit. He must have been wearing most of it under his clothes to have changed so quickly. His top was black and purple and made of some kind of shiny material, most likely PVC. It resembled a tank top, only it had a zip up the front and clung to Uruha like a second skin. It wasn’t zipped quite to the top, revealing flawless skin beneath. The necklace was still there, a reminder that despite his words and actions, he did care.

            The top was accompanied by purple shorts similar to the ones he wore on stage, only so much tighter. Maybe tight enough to cause Uruha pain. He didn’t complain though and Miyavi wasn’t about to tell Uruha to take them off. Not yet anyway.

            Uruha had finished the outfit with black heeled boots that went up above his knees. A long black leather whip was in his right hand, but Miyavi had seen that before. It was what Uruha was hiding behind his back that caught Miyavi’s interest.

            “What are you hiding?” Miyavi demanded but Uruha only smiled. Something fell to the floor but before Miyavi could see what it was, Uruha was blocking his view and then they were kissing. A demanding, all-consuming kiss. Uruha was doing everything in his power to distract Miyavi’s attention and it worked.

            Suddenly Uruha pulled back and before Miyavi had chance to complain, something was slipped into his mouth and tied around his head. He realised it was a ball gag, that pretty much restricted any sounds he could make. He didn’t even try. He knew it was useless to get out anything with the gag in his mouth, restricting the movement of his tongue.

            Miyavi had almost forgotten about the fallen object, almost. He watched as Uruha picked up a long thin stiletto knife. The whip was on the floor now; Uruha must have dropped it during the kiss.

            Uruha watched Miyavi’s eyes open in shock and wondered if this was going too far. He waited for any signs of protest but getting none, took the initiative and left a gentle scratch on Miyavi’s upper arm. It didn’t bleed for a moment, but then the blood began to trickle slowly. He knew he had to be careful; he didn’t want to send Miyavi to hospital or seriously hurt him. An explanation would be unpleasant for both of them and besides, they were both celebrities, they couldn’t show physical injuries to the public. They had to remain visions of perfection. If only the fans could see them now, they’d have a shock, that was for certain.

            Teasingly, Uruha licked the blood away from the cut, his eyes meeting with Miyavi’s, which were giving their silent consent. This was okay for both of them. With a sly, sexy grin, Uruha pressed the knife to the side of Miyavi’s neck. Pressing slowly until the skin broke and a small cut appeared. He pulled away at the first sign of blood, aware of how dangerous this was. Once again, he licked at the blood before biting at the skin. He felt a small jerk from Miyavi’s body and pulled back, grinning at Miyavi’s pain.

            The next cut was across Miyavi’s back, which Uruha left bleeding as he circled the other man, considering where to cut next. He could feel Miyavi’s eyes on him, waiting for the cut. With a casual flick of his wrist as he passed behind Miyavi, he left a cut in Miyavi’s side. Uruha followed with two quick cuts across Miyavi’s back, before circling back in front of him to casually lick the blood from the knife’s blade. He casually threw the knife aside, not wanting to get too carried away with such a dangerous game.

            Instead, Uruha resulted to his teeth, biting gently at Miyavi’s nipples one at a time, making his body arch away from the source of pain. With a laugh he gently stroked Miyavi’s face before giving it a hard slap. This time it did hurt Miyavi but the gasp was muffled by the gag.

            Giving Miyavi a smirk, he once again moved behind him and bit sharply into his shoulder. Gently kissing away the pain, he reached down to undo the fastenings on Miyavi’s trousers, letting them fall down to the floor. Miyavi’s underwear followed and the guitarist willingly stepped out of his clothes.

            Uruha moved down Miyavi’s back with a combination of bites, kisses and licks. As he reached a crouched position he reached out for the forgotten whip and quietly picked it up, knowing Miyavi was too distracted to notice.

            As the kisses and bites moved back up, Uruha reached a standing position, perfect for what he had planned. With one last lick, he stepped back and whipped Miyavi’s back before he had any idea of what was about to happen. There was a muffled cry of surprised pain and his back arched away from the source of pain.

            “I want to hear you cry in pain.” Uruha whispered into Miyavi’s ear, knowing it was going to have to be loud for him to hear any real sound from him. Still he stepped back and cracked the whip onto Miyavi’s back, getting another muffled cry. He whipped again, lower this time as causing more pain than Miyavi could handle was not the point. The pain was meant to add to Miyavi’s pleasure, not eclipse it.

            Uruha gave two whips to Miyavi’s butt before moving around to face him. He needed to see how much more Miyavi would be able to handle. Judging Miyavi could take more, he whipped Miyavi’s thighs once each, knowing Miyavi was extremely grateful he had such great aim. Well, he did practice in his spare time. He was always thinking of new ways to please Miyavi. It was almost an obsession.

            Knowing Miyavi was reaching his limit, he let the whip drop and crouched in front of him, determined to give Miyavi the pleasure that was so sweet after such pain. His tongue flicked out like a snake, tasting Miyavi’s penis and Miyavi’s body arched towards him, silently begging for more. Uruha, not one to argue with such an honest request, let his tongue flick out again. He gave a few more quick licks before placing his hand firmly around it and stroking gently with his thumb. He could feel Miyavi hardening to his touch and continued until Miyavi was ready for the next step.

            Once Miyavi was hard, Uruha gave him a few more firm strokes and took him into his mouth. He didn’t care when Miyavi’s hips pushed forwards, pushing his way deeper into his mouth. It was only fair that his pleasure was equal to the pain. Expertly, Uruha sucked and licked at Miyavi, allowing him to move in and out of his mouth as he pleased. He’d taken so much control away from Miyavi that he didn’t care that he controlled this.

            As Miyavi practically made him gag, Uruha decided it was about time he took back control and moved his hands onto Miyavi’s hips, holding him still as he retook control of the situation and sucked hard at Miyavi until he could begin to taste him in his mouth. He pulled back happily as he watched the end of Miyavi’s orgasm with a lustful look. With a grin, he licked at the mess Miyavi had made of himself, until he was satisfied Miyavi was clean.

            Miyavi watched as Uruha stood back up and removed the gag from his mouth. It was a merciful gesture, as he was struggling to get enough air through his nose now his body had been so excited. He gasped for a few breathes of air and then watched puzzled as Uruha undid one of his bonds.

            “What about you?” Miyavi asked puzzled. Uruha never undid the chains until they’d both reached orgasm.

            “I have a new toy.” Uruha explained, quickly releasing Miyavi’s last chain. Puzzled Miyavi followed Uruha to the back of the attic and through a door, which had formally leaded to a store room. His eyes widened as he saw the new modelling.

            “You got stocks?” Miyavi asked, as he noticed Uruha’s ‘new toy’.

            “They’re converted stocks,” Uruha confirmed. “You’ll have to kneel. That’s why they’re on that raised platform. You’ll see.”

            Miyavi nodded and obediently knelt in position as Uruha lowered the top half, trapping his hands and head within the holes. Two bolts held the top in place and Miyavi realised that, as Uruha had promised, he’d have no choice but to kneel and let Uruha do whatever he wanted to him. Once again, Uruha had found a way to take complete control of him. And like always, despite the front of being cruel, Uruha had taken Miyavi’s comfort into consideration. The wood of the stocks was perfectly smoothed and varnished; the floor where he was crouched was covered by a soft mat. Uruha definitely cared about him, there was no doubt, not from Miyavi anyway.

            ‘The view is nice too,’ Miyavi thought as we watched Uruha undo the zip on his shirt, allowing it to fall onto the floor. His hand brushed across his crotch a few times before his shorts fell to the floor. Two zips later and the boots were removed and Uruha was standing naked in front of him, wearing nothing but the necklace Miyavi had bought for him. There was no greater sight for Miyavi. This was the man who he loved, though he had never said it. He couldn’t say it. The words were forbidden, they would ruin everything.

            “It’s my turn for pleasure now.” Uruha announced, moving towards Miyavi. Suddenly the raised platform made sense as Uruha’s crotch was exactly level with Miyavi’s mouth. He’d really thought of everything.

            Obediently Miyavi began to return the favour Uruha had given him previously, licking Uruha slowly getting the desired effect. Miyavi felt a small tug at his hair before it fell loose across his shoulder and he realised Uruha had untied it. Uruha grabbed at Miyavi’s hair and gasped as Miyavi licked at him. His body had always been sensitive.

Though his original plan had been merely to let Miyavi make him hard, it took the guitarist a lot of will power to pull away. He needed to finish his plans, or what would have been the point? Besides it’d be better if he had to wait.

Moving behind Miyavi, Uruha grinned as he saw Miyavi’s exposed rear just waiting to be taken. He gave it a few playful slaps before reaching for the tube he’d hidden behind the stocks. Quickly he applied lube to himself, enjoying the feeling a little more than he probably should have. Well, it wasn’t his fault that Miyavi waiting for him so helplessly, was so enticing.

Positioning himself behind Miyavi, he positioned his erection ready for entry. He could feel Miyavi pushing back, trying to get him to enter but he ignored temptation and, using both hands, scratched at Miyavi’s skin leaving eight red marks where his fingers had been. Miyavi murmured slightly but that wasn’t what Uruha had wanted.

“Beg for me.” Uruha ordered.

“Why? You know I want it.” Miyavi complained earning himself a hard thump in the back.

“Beg.” Uruha ordered pressing himself just a little bit into Miyavi, only to then withdraw.

“Uruha, please.” Miyavi begged. But it wasn’t good enough.

“Beg me to fuck you.” Uruha ordered.

“Fuck me Uruha.” Miyavi responded obediently. He wanted this just as much as Uruha did, maybe more.

“How?” Uruha teased pressing just a little into Miyavi.

“Hard. Fuck me hard and fast.” Miyavi begged.

“Okay.” Uruha agreed, followed by a few seconds of nothing. Miyavi was about to say something more but was interrupted by Uruha’s sudden hard thrust into him, making him cry out in pain. Uruha was deep inside him and it hurt so perfectly. Uruha had frozen now as Miyavi recovered, waiting for Miyavi to ask for more. No, not ask, Uruha wanted him to beg.

“Uruha fuck me.” Miyavi complained. “Fuck me like you hate me!”

Uruha’s answer came in hard thrusts, that sent a mix of pain and pleasure through Miyavi’s body. The long time apart had done wonders, as Uruha had never gone at him so hard before. Miyavi was soon left a helpless moaning mess at Uruha pounded into him. Uruha didn’t sound much better as he gasped for air. The guitarist’s body started to sweat from the exertion, but he didn’t slow down; the sounds Miyavi were making were too intoxicating.

It was his own body that stopped him; he couldn’t stay hard forever, especially under these conditions. With a gasp he came, collapsing on top of Miyavi and panting for breath.

As he recovered he freed Miyavi and collapsed on the floor, to recover enough strength to stand up. However, it wasn’t necessary, as Miyavi came and lay behind him, holding his body to his. Uruha said nothing as he only wanted to say something kind and loving but that wasn’t their relationship. They fought, he hurt Miyavi and then they had passionate sex. If Miyavi stayed, it was only to sleep and he’d leave in the morning without a word.

So why was it that today Miyavi was brushing his hair away from his eyes? Why was Miyavi gently kissing his shoulder? Miyavi had held him before but never showed such love.

“I love you.” Miyavi whispered into Uruha’s ear and the guitarist froze. The forbidden words. Why had Miyavi said them? It ruined everything. This was supposed to be about sex, not emotions! But if the words were so bad, why did he feel so happy?

“Uruha? Are you mad at me?” Miyavi asked.

“No,” Uruha replied. “I’m not mad.”

That was enough to convince Miyavi that the words had been forgiven. He shouldn’t have said them, they had slipped out against his will. However, he didn’t want to take them back and was glad Uruha wasn’t making him.

 

Uruha lay in Miyavi’s arms happily. He could tell from Miyavi’s breathing that he had fallen asleep. Casually he reached up to the necklace he was wearing, the one Miyavi had given him. The words may be forgiven, but that didn’t stop him feeling it. He loved Miyavi completely and unconditionally. Maybe one day he’d break the rules too and confess those emotions to the man who he just loved to hate.


End file.
